


Neighboring Love

by writtenthroughtime



Series: WTT's Posts for ImagineClaireandJamie [14]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-19 11:19:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7359145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writtenthroughtime/pseuds/writtenthroughtime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:</p>
<p>Hi, lovely and talented people! So there's this post on tumblr that's like "the most beautiful man in the world lives in my building but every time I see him I'm a mess" and I was like OMG THIS NEEDS TO BE A FIC, so, imagine Jamie and Claire in this situation, y'all can adapt ihowever you want to because I trust you to deliver The Adorbs <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Most Beautiful Man

The warm summer sun beat down on my face as I smiled up to greet it. It was the perfect weather to gather plants and herbs that didn’t grow just outside our small home. Scotland in the summer could be the most glorious place, or the most dreary place on any given day. I had grown fond of the erratic weather, the peaceful nature, and the lively Highlanders in the five years Uncle Lamb and I have lived here. The people were wary at first--being English in the Scottish Highlands at any time was cause for heads to turn, being in the 18th century only increased them. Over time we were taken in, and now our “Englishness” doesn’t bother any of the locals we frequently see. The vast lands--and those who inhabited them--of Laird Broch Tuarach’s command were peaceful and accepting. The Laird and his heir, were among two of the most accepting of anyone we had met.

My smile widened as I thought of the soon-to-be Laird Broch Tuarach, or better known as Jamie Fraser.

Just the thought of him made my heartbeat quicken, my smile to brighten, and my stomach become filled with butterflies. He was the most kind, generous, loyal, caring, and _attractive_ man I had ever laid eyes on. I could see in my mind’s eye, his unruly mass of red hair dancing in the wind, his wide full smile, and his blue eyes twinkling with mischief. I skipped a step, twirling, and hugging my basket of herbs to my chest at the thought. He made me feel like no other ever could, yet I don’t even know if he knows my name.

Sighing, I turned left and headed down to the millpond, hoping to procure a sack four before the Quarter Day festivities took the lot.

“--mie, ye wilna disobey me on this.” The deep rumbling burr of Brian Fraser’s voice echoed a short distance from me.

My breath quickened and I could hear my heart beating in my ears. _He was here. He was near me!_

“Oh God!” I whispered to myself in a panic.

I didn’t want him to see me like this! Twigs and vines woven through my hair as an impromptu headband, my hair flowing freely down my back, hands stained with dirt and the juice from berries, and my dress tattered and mud-caked. Quickly I sat down, pretending to play with a weed. I tilted my head up just enough to catch sight of Jamie and Laird Broch Tuarach heading in my direction.

As if he could hear me sigh and my silent plea of his name, Jamie chose that moment to look down, and right into my eyes.

I audibly gasped, feeling the burn of a blush creep from my chest to the tips of my ears as I quickly looked down at my hands. I fiddled with a blade of grass. Praying he didn’t address me so that I could wallow in my mortification in peace.

I wasn’t so lucky.

“Lass are ye alright?” Jamie’s even deeper burr filled my head.

When had his voice gotten so deep? And since when had he gotten so tall? I questioned myself as I looked up into the sun, shielding my eyes as his figure walked towards me.

I nodded, not knowing if I had a voice to answer him. He let out a slight curse and crouched down so that his face was only a foot above mine.

“I’m sorry for making ye look into the sun.” He apologized, a small smile on his lips. “Are ye sure yer alright, lass? Ye’ve got brush in yer hair and yer clothes look as though they’ve seen better days.”

My face flamed brighter.

I nodded again, this time looking back down at my hands. I was mortified. He didn’t even know my name, and he probably thought I was a homeless beggar unable to properly care for myself.

I felt his strong fingers, gently and deftly, untangle the knotted vines and twigs from my hair. Then he effortlessly pulled my hair back into a knot on my head, tying it off with the ribbon from his own hair. I wanted to know what expression was on his face, but I couldn’t make myself look up at him. His calloused finger were gentle as he tilted my face up to look at him.

“There, that has to be slightly better for ye.” He said, smiling at his handiwork.

I saw his own hair loose, just kissing the tops of his shoulders. My heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest.

“Thank you.” I said quietly.

His eyes widened as he took a better look at me. His mouth gaped for a few seconds then closed, no sound escaping.

“I’m sorry to keep you from your father, please don’t mind me. I’ll be quite alright.” I attempted a smile that relayed calm, and not one sign of giddiness from his touch.

“I-I-I-I… uh… aye. I should be getting back to my Da, Sassenach. I didna realize it was ye that was...well… that ye were--” He stammered, and his eyes darted from one place to another no longer able to look me in the eye.

“I’m collecting herbs and berries for Quarter Day. My uncle sent me to pick up some flour as well. When I got here, the weather is just too beautiful not to sit and enjoy. Don’t you think?” My voice evened out and confidence was there when I didn’t believe I could utter a squeak, let alone a fully formed thought.

“Aye,” Jamie said a little too quickly. “I do find this weather to be most agreeable. It suits ye, mo nigh--Sassenach.” He said with a smile. I also thought I hear him utter, “Yer face comes alive with the sun,” but I couldn’t be positive.

Clearing his throat, Jamie stood and offered out a hand. I tentatively took it, feeling my hands shake as I willingly gripped his hand.

“Weel, if ye dinna mind I must be catching up with my father again, Sassenach. Ye should enjoy this day, and pray we have this good of weather at Quarter Day, Saturday next.”

“I will, thank you.” I replied, as he turned to walk away.

“Jamie!” I called out, cursing myself internally for it.

“Aye?” He said, turning back towards me.

I twisted my clasped hands and felt myself blush further. “Thank you again for the ribbon, I’ll return it to you on Quarter Day.”

“Oh! Dinna fash yerself with that. Keep it.” He said, gesturing with his hand that he didn’t mind. “I’ll see ye at Quarter Day, still then? Even if ye dinna return my ribbon?” A flash of something crossed his eyes...or I was hoping something flashed across his eyes.

“Of course!”

He beamed at me.

“Until then,....Claire.” He said my name with slight hesitation and a bow. The sound of my name coming from him warmed me to the core. The moment his back was turned, I fell back to the ground, giddy with the day’s turn of events.

I staggered upright after sitting in a daze for what felt like hours, making my way--drunkenly--inside the mill to pick up the sack of flour.

Humming I made my way through the woods, back to our small cottage. I gathered mint, sage, and other various plants along the way. I was so lost in thoughts of Jamie that I nearly squished the perfect plant.

Strawberries.

A small patch of wild strawberries littered the ground, their small heart shapes growing in the patches of sunlight, turning the white and green fruits to a delicious bright red. I bit my lip to hold back a squeal. I knew what I would bring the Laird and his family on Quarter Day, strawberry tarts.

Uncle Lamb found me later that evening, flour all over me as I sat crying over the burned tarts. I had nearly used all of the strawberries in the process...and the newly purchased bag of flour.

“Good heavens child! What have you done?” Uncle Lamb’s calm voice called out to me. I saw his face take on worry as he caught sight of my flour and tear streaked face.

“I’m sorry Uncle Lamb… I didn’t...mean...to use up...all the flour...I just wanted to...m-m-make something nice for the Laird’s family.” I hiccupped and cried into my hands.

I felt his arm come around my shoulders.

“It’s fine, love. Come,” he said, pulling me to my feet wiping the tears from my face. “Dust yourself off and we’ll make the best tarts the Laird and his family will ever taste!”

I sobbed out a laugh. Uncle Lamb always knew how to cheer me up. The rest of the evening we enjoyed attempting to make strawberry tarts. We ended up running out of strawberries and we will need to visit the mill again to replenish the supply of flour we squandered away, but we had fun.

Needless to say, we did not have strawberry tarts to take to Quarter Day. I was disappointed and my stomach was in knots at the prospect of seeing Jamie again. I wore the best dress I could find, and made sure that the ribbon Jamie had given me was visible in my hair.

Lamb insisted that we ride instead of walk the distance to Lallybroch estate, I didn’t complain. It would get me--us--there faster.

I bounced on my feet nervously as we stood in line to greet Brian, Jamie, and Jenny Fraser. Uncle Lamb laughed beside me.

“You’re acting as though you’ve got bugs down your pants.” He laid a hand on my arm. “Calm down, sweetheart, all will be well. Just because we don’t have a physical gift to give when we approach the Laird, does not mean we do not have a gift still to give him.”

“Oh it’s not that,” I began, trailing off, not wanting to reveal the true nature of my nervousness.

Uncle Lamb lifted an eyebrow and viewed me with amusement plain on his face.

 

“Of course it’s not darling, of course not. You’re just excited to see the young future laird are you not?”

A bolt of shock coursed through me, settling like a pit in my stomach, igniting the butterflies once again. I looked at my uncle in mild horror and shock.

“How--I mean I--No!” I tried to deny. I was too flustered to think clearly. Uncle Lamb laughed throwing his head back.

“Sure, my dear, if that’s what you truly believe.”

He didn’t believe me for a moment.

The queue moved forward steadily, the voices around were full of joy and laughter, even the Laird’s booming laugh could be heard from where we stood. I couldn’t concentrate or let the light atmosphere around me sink in. I was too busy fussing with my dress, making sure the dirt was gone and I looked presentable.

“If you keep touching your hair or dusting your dress, people will think you are infested with lice. You look fine, my dear. Relax.” Uncle Lamb whispered in my ear.

I took a deep shuddering breath, and closed my eyes. Simultaneously hoping Jamie would not, and would notice me.

We were next.

My palms broke out in a sweat and my heart was trying to leap from my chest. _Just walk Beauchamp, you can do this. Smile and walk._ When our turn came I tried to look to the Laird first, but my gaze was only for Jamie. His entire face brightened and a large smile broke across it. I smiled back.

I could now tell that he wore his hair clubbed back, no doubt another ribbon adorning the end. I desperately wanted to know the color, was it green to match the day and contrast with his hair, or was it blue--like the one I wore--the color of the sky and ocean; the color of his eyes?

“Professor Beauchamp, Miss Beauchamp welcome!” Brian Fraser’s voice greeted, causing me to jump and break my gaze from Jamie.

I curtsied in respect, slightly bowing my head.

“Ah, good day Brian!” Never one for formalities, Uncle Lamb greeted everyone like an old friend, and clapped the Laird on the shoulder. “How are you and your family this season?”

Brian smiled in return, “We are doing quite well. Preparing young Jamie here for University in France come this fall. I am hopeful that this will help make a better Laird out of him when the time comes, but only time will tell. How are you and your niece?”

I tuned Lamb and the Laird from my mind, concentrating on two words. _University_ and _France_. I looked at Jamie and he had a look of disdain marring his features. I felt like I could cry. University in France. For how long? Why must he go to France?

I felt my stomach bottom out and tears prick my eyes. I forced a tight smile and curtsy and made my way to the benches in the yard.

My mind raced with the possibilities that awaited Jamie in France. Would his ship encounter trouble? Would he like it there so much that he decided never to come back? Or even worse, what if he found a girl there that he would marry and bring back here as Lady Brochure Tuarach.

“Claire?” I jumped at the sound of his voice. I quickly wiped the tears from my face and looked up at him.

“Yes Jamie? Can I help you?”

He shuffled his feet looking at the ground. “My Da and yer uncle said that you had something for me?”

“Oh!” I said, feeling silly at the hope that bubbled in me that he came to see me, just to see why I was upset and offer comfort. Get a grip Beauchamp!

“Yes, I have this for you.” I pulled out the letter from my pocket.

When he grabbed the letter, his fingers brushed against mine and I felt the butterflies in my stomach return.

“Thank ye,” he said at the same time I replied, “It’s a promise from my uncle and I.”

He laughed and had me repeat myself.

“What sort of promise?” He asked, his fingers drumming against the paper and his leg.

I reached out without thinking and grabbed his hand, stilling the movement. “It’s a promise that if you ever need us, more so me, to help with any healing needs I’ll always be available for you.”

I felt the paper drop between our hands and his laced his fingers with mine, seating himself beside me. He pulled me to where I was flush against his side.

“Ye’ll always be available, for _**any**_ need I may have?” He asked, his voice a husky whisper.

I nodded, and turned to look at him.

His eyes were focused on my mouth. I smiled nervously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong at all, mo nighean donn. Does the promise start now?” He asked, his face inching closer to mine.

“Yes,” I replied breathlessly.

I saw him smirk. “Good. Because I need--”

He didn’t finish his sentence. I didn’t care, because his lips were upon mine. Warm, wet, and hungrily tasting.

Coherent thoughts flew from my mind as I let myself become consumed by the feeling of Jamie.

When he pulled back, a lurched forward, not ready to give up the sensation of kissing him. He smiled both with his eyes and his mouth. He kissed my forehead and rested his head against mine. I felt one hand rubbing up and down my back, the other playing with my hair.

“One day, I’ll give ye more than just a ribbon, Sassenach.” I snuggled into his chest, where I could feel the rumble of his voice.

“Before or after you leave for France?” I joked.

He pulled back from me and I felt his mood tense. “Before and after. I promise ye, I’ll come back. I dinna wish to leave and go to France. I especially dinna wish to leave ye, Sassenach, but I have no choice.”

I rested my hand on his cheek, he turned and kissed my wrist.

“Don’t forget me.” I whispered.

“Never.” He promised and kissed me again. “Christ, ye have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss ye like this, to hold ye, to make ye mine.”

That surprised me. “What?”

“Do ye no ken how I’ve felt about ye, Sassenach?”

I shook my head dumbly. He smiled and pushed a stray curl behind my ear.

“I thought ye were the most beautiful lass the day we met--”

“Five years ago!” I finished astonished. It was that very day, that I too, fell for him.

He nodded and smiled. “I had no idea ye felt the same way.”

I blushed and looked down. His hand cupped my chin and brought my eyes back up to his.

“Dinna hide, mo nighean donn.”

“How did you find out?” I questioned.

He scratched the back of his head. “Your uncle and my Da were acting odd. They both said I should come over here to find ye, without Jenny or one of them. I assumed from their smiles and insistence that something was not as it seemed.” He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “I have to say, Sassenach, I’m glad I did come over here.”

I blushed even harder and searched his eyes for the falsehoods my mind was trying to conjure.

“You’re not lying?”

“No, Sassenach. I’m no lying to ye.”

I closed my eyes and let a tear escape. I felt his thumb wipe away the tear for me. “Dinna cry. I dinna wish for ye to cry.”

“I never believed you could feel the same as I.” I whispered. “These are happy tears.”

He pulled me to his chest, kissed the top of my head and muttered in Gaelic. “Ye’ve no need for tears, mo nighean donn. I’ll always want ye.”


	2. 362 Days...

I watched him leave, taking my heart with him.

“Dinna fash, Sassenach,” he had said, his forehead pressed to mine. His hands had been gently caressing my back and cheek. “I'll be home before he can miss me.”

“No. I'm afraid that is where you are wrong, Jamie. I already miss you, and I have you in my arms,” I had told him, pulling him as close to me as I could.

His thumb had brushed the tears away before he bent down to kiss my lips. I had reveled in the feel of his hard body, the tenderness of his lips, the softness of his hair--these were the memories I would have to hold onto until he returned back back from University.

He pulled back and I arched forward, gasping into his mouth.

“Claire,” he breathed.

“Yes?” I was reluctant to stop. I needed more.

His hand came up between us, something in his hand. He rested his forehead on mine as I looked down at the object. He held a gold and ruby ring; it was stunning.

“Will ye wear this and think of me while I'm away? Know that when ye wear it that I'm wi’ ye and my family will protect ye while I cannot.”

“Oh!” My eyes had widened. “Of course I'll wear it. But I have nothing to give you!”

He slipped the ring onto my left ring finger, a smirk graced his face.

“I like the way my mark looks on ye,” he whispered, so low I wasn't sure I was meant to hear it.

“Aye, ye do have something I could take with me.” He smiled, pulled my hand to his lips and kissed his ring.

He then pulled the ribbon from my hair, the same ribbon he had given me before Quarter Day--tied it to a small locked hair, pulled out his dirk and cut my hair. He had pulled out a small and ornate locket on a long chain and placed the lock of my recently cut hair inside before placing it around his neck.

He handed me a new ribbon, but left my hair loose. Jamie kissed me once more then mounted his horse.

It had been three days since he left. Three days since my heart and my soul knew peace. Three days: only 362 more to go.

I went through the motions in a monotonous sort of way, not thinking or concentrating on the task at hand. The tenants had sought me out for their various healing needs. When they caught sight of the ruby ring that adorned my hand, I was met with shock followed by silence. Their eyes would drop to the ground, the occasional ‘Milady’ was uttered, or I was quickly escorted out of their home and back to the estate only to help the sick from the ‘comfort of my own home.’

“Milady Claire!” the youngest of the McNab’s called out to me.

I put on the best smile I could and turned to greet him. “Hello Rabbie, is your back ailing you again?”

The boy looked down and shook his head, “Only a bit Milady, but that’s no’ why I’m here. This came for you! I told the messenger that I kent ye well and could bring it to ye.”

I took the letter from his outstretched hand and tilted his chin up. “Before I read this you’re going to meet me in the kitchen so I can treat your back.”

“Aye, Milady,” he said dejectedly, trudging around back towards the kitchens. I took a quick look down at the letter. In a jagged, elegant, yet smudged scrawl read: Claire E. Beauchamp.

My heart skipped a beat at the familiar lines of my name. Jamie. My heart pounded in my ears and my hands began to shake; butterflies filled my stomach as I tucked the letter away.

I hadn’t realized I had begun to cry until the moisture fell onto my hand. Hastily, I brushed away the tears and prepared myself for the task at hand. Rabbie sat on a bench by the door, his shirt already folded across his lap. His back was a swirl of colors ranging from the darkest purples to the lightest of yellows, multiple stages of bruising marring his young skin. What concerned me most was at the center of every splotch of color lay a swollen, oozing laceration. My heart clenched every time I treated his back. How could a parent treat their child with such disdain and cruelty?

I touched Rabbie’s shoulder causing him to jump and wince.

“I’m going to treat your back now, alright?”

“Aye.” His small head nodded shortly.

I started at the top and eased my way from cut to cut: cleaning, probing, and assessing each area for what was needed. Poltices would be needed to draw the infection out of the wounds, some I knew were beginning to heal, had been agitated and become infected once again. I sighed angrily with each whimper and twitch he made as I worked.

“Please dinna tell Himself about my back,” Rabbie’s voice was small and muted.

“Why would you not want me to tell the Laird?” I asked.

Rabbie lifted his small shoulder in a shrug. “I dinna want him to think less o’ me.”

“Oh, Rabbie, the Laird would never think less of you.” My heart clenched as the small boy’s shoulders shook with the force of his sobs.

“I canna let him ken what my Da does to me. Where would I go? I’d have no home if Himself forces Da to leave. I’m happy here wi’ ye, Milady, and with Mistress Jenny and Master Jamie. I canna--I--”

“Shh, shhh.” I cradled his head to my breast, rocking from side to side trying to soothe his pain. Mrs. Crook stood in the doorway and gave a curt nod.

“Rabbie?”

He sniffled.

“I need you to be brave and strong for me, alright? I need you to let me know if anything else happens to you and who did it. I need to be able to treat you, but I can’t if you hide it from me.”

He gave a weak nod. “Aye, Milady. I shall. May I go back to the fields now?”

I frowned, but nodded my head. “Alright. Just don’t do to much to pop your scabs or move the bandages.”

He scurried out of the kitchen at a sprint for the haystacks in the fields.

“Himself knows,” Mrs. Crook said coming up from behind me.

I nodded. “I figured as much. Did you tell him?”

“Oh, aye. Many moons ago when ye first started treating the boy at the McNab household and asked for my assistance.”

“That was over a year ago!” I said, flabbergasted.

“Aye. Dinna fash yerself on his account. The Laird is a kind man and will help the boy.”

“She’s right,” Brian Fraser said, making both Mrs. Crook and I jump. “I havena quite decided how to approach McNab about the abuse of his boy. How bad was he today, Claire?”

“His back was a multitude of colors from new and old bruises. There were new lashes, I believe were made from the prong of a belt buckle; those were oozing puss and blood. The few injuries that had scabbed over were infected.” I looked up at the kind face of Jamie’s father. “It’s a wonder how the boy can stand a shirt.”

Brian nodded. “He’s a braw lad.”

“Are you going to help him, Laird?” I asked, my fingers playing with the corner of Jamie’s letter.

“Aye, I do plan to help the boy,” he smiled down at me and nodded to the letter. “Jamie send that to ye?”

I nodded. “I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. Rabbie delivered it just before I helped his back.” Trailing off I looked down at the ground, trying not to expose how much I longed to be alone when I read the letter.

Clapping a hand to my shoulder, Brian said, “Why don’t you go on to your chambers and read it then. I’ll make sure Jenny and the others willna bother ye.”

I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

As I set out to find solace in my room, I heard Brian call after me. “Lass?”

I turned, looking at him curiously.

“None of this ‘Laird’ and ‘Himself’ business when ye talk to me,” he smirked, a twinkle in his smiling eyes--the same eyes he passed on to his son. Before I had a chance to respond he said, “Call me Da instead. Now, go see what my son has decided to write ye when ye’ve only been apart for less than a fortnight.”

I smiled widely and ran. “Thank you… Da.”

Brian smiled as I turned and rushed out of the room. Once alone, I shook with anticipation. The letter sat on my lap, unopened and only slightly worn at the edges--mostly from my fidgeting--and perfect. I memorized the scrawl on the front, tracing it with my finger, trying to imagine Jamie’s hand as he wrote it. With shaking hands, I popped the seal and began to read.

_Mo Nighean Donn,_

He started it. I smiled and felt my heart flutter at the name.

_I dinna have much time to write, but I couldna leave Scotland without penning you at least once. My journey to France will be well under way by the time your read this, and once you do I hope you pray for me and my sea legs. The few times I’ve ventured out onto water have not been pleasant trips. If you were here, my Sassenach, I ken you would be able to help ease my suffering with your promise._   
_I dinna ken how I shall manage without ye for a year. The prospect is dizzying. I ken well that I need my schooling to be a well rounded and educated Laird, but all I can think of are your lips, hips, and round arse. Oh how I yearn for ye, Claire. I feel as though my burning will never cease until ye are mine forever. Even then, it may no end._   
_I’ve nearly turned around more times than I’m prepared to recount to ye. Murtagh huffs and drags my horse further onward towards the sea. He doesna ken how much I need to be with ye. To finally have you as my own, to share with you the feelings that I have and have you in turn, reciprocate, has left me a desperate man. To only have your for mere moments is no enough, mo nighean donn._   
_I need you here beside me._   
_I wish I had never left._   
_Will you keep your second promise to me, and never take off my ring? So long as you wear it, I’m there with you. Never doubt that._   
_Murtagh is signalling me to board the ship so I must end this correspondence. I shall write to you while aboard, so long as I’m no too sick to hold a quill. Dinna fash my Sassenach, I will be home before either of us know it, so long as we never lose touch. I’ll write every chance I get. You shall get sick of my letters before you are sick from missing me._   
_Tha gaol agam ort, mo ghraidh._   
_James Alexander Malcolm MacKenzie Fraser_

Tears sprung to my eyes as I read and reread Jamie’s letter. I clutched it tightly to my chest.

“Oh Jamie, I’m already sick with missing you,” I whispered to the paper.


	3. Unwanted Affections

I tightly clutched the fine gold chain Brian had given me that held the ring from Jamie in my hand. The ring felt like my lifeline and in the palm of my hand; I could feel it pulse with my heartbeat.

“He should be here by now,” I murmured to myself, staring beyond the Broch where not a soul could be seen in the distance. 

The worry in my heart became a pit in my stomach. All I want was Jamie home, and safely so. Three-hundred sixty-five days and eight hours had passed since he left for France, three-hundred sixty-five painful and lonely days. His letters came as frequently as would be expected, about twice a month. I couldn’t help but cherish each word on the page he had written. Some so much that the paper itself had begun to rip at the folds. I had written back to him, detailing the goings-on at the estate and the strangers that had traveled though. 

One such stranger never left. I could feel his lecherous gaze from the fields now. His gaze made me feel as though something slimey had oozed all over my body. Involuntary shudders wracked my body in revulsion and not from the crisp Scottish air that whipped my hair around my face. When Jamie’s reply to the stranger his father had kept on as a farm hand came in, I could see the anger and frustration with every stroke of the pen. His letters were cramped together, more spiked than his usual elegant curved writing, and some were smudged, indicating he had given up formalities and used his left hand to hastily scribble his remarks. I felt an odd sense of pride and security with his response, knowing the moment Jamie arrived, the young Lieutenant Randall would undoubtedly cease his advances. 

“Claire!” Jenny called from the door. I turned to see my soon-to-be sister standing, arms crossed, on the stoop. “It’s nearly supper. Come inside and have a bite to eat. Jamie will be here when he gets here. Freezing yourself outside willna bring him home any faster.” 

Sighing, I gave one last longing gaze out towards the mountain pass and slowly made my way indoors. 

Jenny linked her arm with my own, ushering me to the sitting room. 

“I thought you said supper was about ready?” I questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“Oh aye, and it will be in another hour or so.” Opening my mouth to protest, I was cut off when Jenny raised a hand. “I’ll no’ argue with you Claire, but the young red coat is eyeing you something fierce and it’s no’ a pleasant eyeing either. Da has about bloodied his face on several occasions. Ye need take care of your surroundings, sister.” 

Jenny’s face was etched in worry, the softness in her tone alerting me to how serious the situation actually was. My questioning look softened and I gently took Jenny’s hands in my own. “I will try to be more aware. I just can’t keep my mind from Jamie.”

“Jamie,” Jenny said at the same time. “Ach, I ken that well. He’s taking his time. Ye ken how he is with the sea sickness. Murtagh probably had to let him rest a day or two before taking off for home. You’ll see, by the time supper starts on the morrow or the following eve, Jamie will be home.”

A look of wickedness glinted in her eyes. “I canna wait to see what Jamie thinks of your current sleeping situations.” 

“Why would he care where I’ve been sleeping? He’s already informed that I’ve been living and sleeping in the estate. Uncle Lamb too!” 

Jenny only grinned like that cat who got cream for her supper and shrugged. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me what he says, or doesn’t say since you’re so sure he’ll no say anything, of the room you’ve taken as your own.”

By the time supper had started, my appetite had disappeared. I sat at the table mournfully pushing the venison stew from side to side. 

“Take care, Claire. Mrs. Crook fixed up a mighty fine supper. Ye’ll be needing your strength,” Brian said loudly, garnering everyone’s attention. My cheeks flamed in embarrassment. 

Leaning in closer, he whispered, “Jamie wouldna like to hear that his bride hasna been eating nor taking care of herself. I see the disappointment on your face and even more in your eyes. He’ll be home and when he does get here, he’s going to want you awake and healthy, no sick or weak in bed.”

My cheeks burned harder as I took a sip of the broth. Brian patted my shoulder. “That’s my girl,” I thought I heard him say, but I couldn’t be sure. 

The next morning dawned just as gray and lugubrious as I felt. Jamie didn’t show up in the middle of the night. I knew it was a silly wish, but my heart still ached in disappointment. I could tell Jenny was sending me to the gardens just to get my mind off of Jamie and his unknown whereabouts. The smell of mint, thyme, and other various smells surrounded me in a therapeutic way. Each plant giving off it’s own unique aroma as it grew, or a more pungent scent as it’s being plucked.

“Mistress Beauchamp?” A clipped English accent jolted me out of my methodical ministrations. 

Clutching a sprig of thyme to my heart, I looked up to see Lieutenant Randall standing directly on top of the freshly sprouted rosemary. It took enormous effort on my part to not glare at him or shoo him from my herb garden. 

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” I asked, voice full of annoyance. 

He quickly pulled his hat from his head and twisted the brim between his hands. “I was hoping you may be able to answer a question that has been burning me?”

His voice was shaky and not at all what I imagined ever to come from the lecherous Lieutenant. 

“What’s the question, Lieutenant? Is it something medicinal you need help with? I’m sure there are more advanced healers in the area, but I’ll be happy to try and help you in whatever way I can.”

He looked down, shuffling his feet uprooting the new rosemary plant. My anger was being contained just below the surface of my skin. I could feel the prickling sensations of white hot anger begin to pull at my arms and the back of my neck. 

“Would you do me the great honor in accepting my courtship? An English Rose such as yourself deserves so much more than what the Scottish Countryside can offer. I’d be most obliged if you were to accept my hand in courtship so that I may restore you to your rightful place, and hopefully as a respected lady of a well decorated English Officer.”

“I-I,” I choked. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“Would you please do me the honor of--”

“Yes, I heard you the first time,” I interrupted him. “Why would you think I need to be restored to any place? I grew up not three miles from this estate from the time I was a young girl. The Scottish Countryside is my home.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Lieutenant Randall yelled. “This country is full of backward barbarians and you, an English lady, consider yourself at home here?” 

I nodded slowly as I stood to look him in the eye. “Yes, I do consider this country my home. Are we not still on English soil? Technically the Scottish countryside is a part of England and has been for quite some time. I don’t see these people as backward or barbarians! They are my friends, and some so close I would dare to say even family. I love the peacefulness here, the beauty of the mountains and lochs. Do you not see the area around you and feel complete awe and serenity?” 

“We are not in England,” he sneered, his grip on his hat tightening to the point his knuckles went white. “We are in a Godforsaken land that I’ve been dumped in. I’m trying to make the best out of this hellish situation and rescue you from this hell!”

His arm darted out and gripped my forearm, pulling me tight to his chest. I felt my entire body recoil at his touch. “I’ll ask again, madam. Will you do me the honor in accepting my courtship?”

“She canna accept your courtship, sir,” a thick Scottish brogue spoke from behind me. I nearly wept in relief. Jamie was home. 

“Oh, and why’s that? You’re nothing but a Scottish whoresson! Who are you to say what she can and cannot accept? I asked the lady, not a barbarian such as yourself!” Lieutenant Randall’s face had gone a rather odd shade of puce in his anger, and his grip tightened painfully on my arm.

“Och, because she’s betrothed to myself, that’s why. The lass is being kind and trying to let you down easy by ignoring the question. Ye see, my name is James Fraser, the future Laird of the ground on which you stand. And I’ll ask ye this once, to take your hands off my wife.”


	4. Since the Very First Day

“James Alexander, stop yer fidgetin’!” Ellen berated her youngest, slapping his hands away from the cuffs of his sleeves.

“But Mam!” Jamie protested with a groan. “It’s too stuffy and I’m hot! Canna I go play wi’ Ian in the stables?”

“No, ye can’t. Yer father is expecting us for Quarter Day and ye will be there to greet our guests, do ye hear me?”

“Yes, Mam.” Jamie dragged his feet, scuffing his newly made boots along the hallway floor leading to his father’s study.

“Da?”

“Jamie, my lad! Come here, son.” Jamie ran and scrambled into his father’s lap, tugging at his collar and cuffs.

“Canna please take it off, Da? It’s hot and stuffy and I dinna wanna wear it!”

Brian chuckled pulling his son’s hands away from the lace and velvet. “Ye ken ye have to wear it. I’m sure yer Mam has told ye so.”

“Aye,” Jamie mumbled.

“Weel then, I dinna ken why yer asking me if ye can take it off. Ye must look respectable and the image of the Laird. Ye are my son and ye’ll need to act that way. No one will be off playing until later.”

Jamie sighed, his small head drooped down in despondency. Putting a finger beneath his chin, Brian raised Jamie’s face so that his eyes could meet his own. 

“I’ll make a deal wi’ ye son,” Brian said, pushing a curly red lock out of his son’s eyes. “Ye can change and go off and play after we’ve met with all the tenants. Ye dinna have to stay for the more business aspect of it, but ye will say hello and greet each and every one of our residents. They look up to us and count on us to take care of them. The least we can do is be there to welcome them graciously into our home. Ye never know who ye might meet, someone new or old, and form a new exciting friendship. Aye?”

“Alright, Da.” Jamie slid off of his father’s lap and trudged out of the study, Brian muffling his chuckles as he watched his son walk dejectedly away.

To Jamie, it felt like days he had been standing beside his family greeting all of the tenants in the land. He didn’t know when it would end. His mood soured as he could hear his best friend and the locals playing just on the other side of the dooryard. He longed to be over there playing with swords or chasing them into the burn. The icy chill of the burn would feel good about now, he thought to himself as a bead of sweat fell down his neck.

A quick, but quiet noise from his mother had him standing straighter and no longer tugging at his sleeves.

“Laird Fraser!” Jamie heard a distinctly English accent say with a flourish. “It is an honor to meet you on this fine day and my what a beautiful family you have!” 

The accent drew Jamie’s attention over to the man, he stood in odd looking tan breeks and only his tunic. No plaid or red coat, no loyalties being shown.

“Welcome Mister?”

“Ah, Beauchamp. Lambert Beauchamp, but please just call me Lamb. This,” he pulled a girl in front of him, “is my niece, Claire. We were fortunate enough to obtain a small cabin on the edge of your properties from a Mrs. McNabb about a month ago. I do hope that is not a problem?”

“Not at all, Lamb. I’d be happy to discuss the terms of your tenantship in the study after while, if ye’d to me the honor?”

“Of course! Of course! I only want to make sure we can stay. Claire and I are the only family the other has, and we’ve been most graciously welcomed here. We find it very serene and more like home than anywhere else we’ve been thus far.” 

Jamie watched as his father’s eyebrows disappeared in shock. “I would love to hear what ye could bring to the area and where all ye’ve been and how ye came to be here.”

“Claire, is it?” Ellen said, crouching down to the girl’s height.

“Yes, ma’am. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, at your service.” She bowed low with a curtsey. Jamie was transfixed. The girl had curly brown hair that was not contained. It fell down in the ways his mother and sister’s hair did at night. She didn’t seem comfortable in her dress, but that didn’t matter, she was there and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“…my daughter will show you the way.” Jamie shook his head hearing the end of his mother’s sentence. What will Jenny show her? Where will they go?

“Thank you, Mrs. Fraser.”

“I’ll take her!” he said without thought.

“Jamie?” his mother questioned while his sister sniggered.

“I said, I’ll take her.”

“Nay, ye will not! That is my job. Ye dinna have a reason to be wi’ us. Go play wi’ Ian, Jamie,” Jenny said laughing, grabbing Claire’s hand. 

Brian looked from his wife to his son and nodded. Leaning down, he whispered to his son, “Ye like the lass then, Jamie?”

“What? No! Da, I only-”

“Wheest! I was the same way when I first saw yer Mam. Go on and get changed. Our deal is fulfilled. Go play with Ian, I’ll call for ye later and we’ll talk about Miss Beauchamp then, aye?”

“Aye,” Jamie said, running into the house. He heard Jenny’s voice and followed it to the library part of the study.

“Ye’ll find all sorts of books here!”

“Thank you so much, Jenny.”

“Aye, it’s no trouble at all. Maybe once ye find a book, ye could meet me back outside to go for a walk? I can show ye around the land.”

“I’d really like that,” Claire said. Jamie could hear the smile in her voice.

“Good. I’ll see ye shortly then!” Plastering himself to the side of the wall, he nearly was caught as his sister skipped out of the room, a smile plastered on her face.

“I’m going to have a friend,” he heard Claire murmur. Chancing a glance, he caught Claire hugging herself and spinning in a circle with a laugh.

Making his way to his friends, Jamie couldn’t stop thinking of Claire. He wanted to be her friend as well.

“Jamie! What are they like? Did they have pointed teeth and horns?”

“What are ye talking about, Ronald?”

“The Sassenachs! My Da says there were a hundred of them infiltrating yer land! What are they like?”

“Yer Da is stupid then, Ronald, because there were only two Sassenachs and yer Mam is the one that sold them a house! No, they didna have fangs or horns. They were just like us, only with a funny accent.”

“Yer the one that’s stupid! My Mam never would have sold a Sassenach a pile of poop, let alone a cabin!” Ronald McNabb said, poking Jamie in the chest.

“I was there when the Sassenachs arrived and the man said he bought the cabin from Mrs. McNabb! Ye canna say I’m stupid for repeating the truth!”

Ronald snorted. “The truth according to a Sassenach!”

“Why would he lie? It was just him and his niece. There isna a reason for him to saying anything false!”

“He could to get into yer idiot Da’s good graces to keep them on the land! I say we should go and beat them up! Make sure they ken never to cross a Scot!”

A few of the other boys cheered at Ronald’s bold statement, but what cut through the noise was a soft gasp. Behind him, stood Jenny and Claire.

“My Uncle is not lying. We bought the cabin from a Mrs. McNabb and we’re here to offer what we can in rents due to the Laird. We have no quarrel with you or any Scotsman. We like it here!” Claire said defiantly, marching up to stand beside Jamie and in front of Ronald.

“Go away, ye filthy Sassenach! No one wants ye here!”

Before Claire could say anything further, Jamie lunged his fist connecting with Ronald’s nose, as both boys fell to the ground.

“Dinna say that to a lady! She’s no filthy! Learn manners, ye no good son of a-”

“JAMIE!” Brian yelled as he pulled his son off of the other boy who had curled up in a ball crying, bloody snot bubbles forming with each gasp of air.

“Ye dinna hit men whom ye don’t agree with. Ye talk it over. That way ye have no reason to be thought of as a criminal or scoundrel!”

“Nay, Da. He was speaking bad about Miss Claire. He called her a filthy Sassenach and wanted to beat her up!” Jamie exclaimed, wiping blood and dirt from under his nose. “I was protecting her.”

Brian sighed. “We’ll discuss this later.” He turned back to the crying form of Ronald McNabb. “Did ye learn yer lesson, lad?”

The boy didn’t answer.

“Come on then, let’s go see if Mrs. Crook can patch ye up.”

“Mister Fraser.. .erm.. Laird Fraser!” Claire called out.

“Aye?” he said, turning with Ronald in his arms to face Claire.

“Jamie really was protecting me, but if it’s alright with you please don’t go too harsh on him. His heart was in a good place.”

Brian nodded and began to walk away.

“Wait!” Claire called again. “I know how to fix what’s wrong with him. Can I help?”

“Come on, then!” Brian called and Claire followed, looking back again at Jamie for a moment, blowing him a kiss before catching up to Brian and Ronald.

–

The memory of the first time Jamie stood up for me rushed through my mind and I couldn’t help but see the small boy who pummeled another because he insulted me. And now, here an adult Jamie stood, not three feet from me, the same determined expression set on his face.

“Jamie!” I sighed and walked towards him, my arm being jerked back by Jonathan. “Let me go!” I said, angrily tugging on my arm.

“No! Why should I believe him! You love me! We’ll be happy together, Claire, just you see.”

“I’d rather not. I love Jamie not you, never you!” I tugged again. “Now, let. Me. Go!” I said emphasizing each word with a tug. He let go as I tugged causing me to fall right into Jamie’s arms.

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” he asked, smoothing my hair back from my face.

“Yes, now that you’re home. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be home early?”

Jamie leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Because I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Breathing deeply, I relaxed further into his embrace.

“You just think you’re something special, don’t you, Fraser? Always getting what you want, never thinking about consequences or what might happen to others. No, it’s always all about you. You don’t even understand or know who I am! What I can do and who trusts me!”

“I’ll be asking ye to take yer leave, sir. If ye will speak with my father before ye leave telling him ye are going, that would save me the trouble of explaining what I stumbled upon.”

“Watch your back, Fraser. I’ll not forget this and you will regret this moment. As will you!” he sneered, nodding in my direction.

With a turn of his coat, Jonathan Randall walked out of the garden and hopefully out of our lives.


	5. Hidden Letters

Jamie pulled me in close, tucking my head under his chin as he rocked us from side to side. 

“Are ye alright, mo nighean donn?” He whispered into my hair. I could hear the strain in his voice. 

I nodded with a mumbled yes into his chest. The tension in his body seemed to melt away with my simple answer. I felt him press a kiss to my head, just before he pulled back to survey my face. 

“Christ, it’s good to see and hold ye, Sassenach. If he--if he--” his eyes closed as he breathed angrily out his nose. “I couldnae stand it if he’d done anything to ye.”

I cupped his face and he leaned further into my touch as I said, “You stopped him. Nothing happened because you were here. Even if you had not shown up, he wouldn’t have gone far. If he had tried to pull me close, my knee would have forcefully become acquainted with a particularly sensitive part of him.”

Jamie tipped his head back with a roaring laugh. “I wouldnae doubt ye for a moment, Sassenach. And remind me to ne’er get on yer bad side.” He said with a wink. 

I smirked as he wrapped an arm back around my shoulders and guided me to the big house. 

“We need to be quiet, Claire, we dinna wish to be caught.” He said with a wink, holding a finger up to his lips. “I wish to keep ye to myself for a while and the moment my meddlin’ family discovers I’m in the house it’ll be hours before I can just hold ye and talk wi’ ye.” He looked over to me and gave me a grin that made my stomach feel full of butterflies. “I just want to be able to talk wi’ ye wi’out a crowd.” 

“If you’re so worried about being caught, why don’t we stay out in the garden or go for a walk to the mill?” I countered. 

“Because,” he said, “I cannae give ye the wee baubles I brought back for ye at the mill.”

“You didn’t have to--”

“I ken fine I dinnae have to get ye anything, but I wanted to.” 

I nodded and followed him with light footsteps through the empty kitchen and up the back set of stairs towards my, no his bedroom. A room I would have to give up, a bittersweet sadness washed over me. I didn’t want to leave the comfort of that room, of Jamie, but he was home now. The need to be separate until the wedding would overshadow every other need that may arise. God, I hoped it wasn’t too much longer. A year already and before then the stupidity of my shyness kept us apart, and now...now I wanted nothing more than to never leave his side and let the feelings that have been building take over. I wanted, no, needed these emotions, these overwhelming sensations to be sated and content. He was the man I could let myself genuinely feel and not be afraid of what was to come. I’d heard enough over the last year from Jenny, the women I helped in childbirth, and old Granny McNabb to know what was to come for the marriage bed. 

“Claire? Claire?” Jamie said, shaking me slightly. “Where did ye go mo nighean donn? I’ve been saying yer name…” He trailed off when I started to shake my head and smile. 

“I was thinking about what this room means, to you, to me...us.” I took a step and buried my face in his chest, then continued. “This is your childhood room, your home. But, when you left it became this empty shell, waiting for your return. Nothing out of place, everything exactly as you left it, until I moved in. It was hard at first, however, this room became an extension of you, a place where I felt closer to you. This room, this house, it became my home, more so than any other place I’ve lived.” 

I felt his arms tighten around and a smile bloom across his face. “Aye, well then I’m sure my letters were of comfort to ye in my absence as well?”

“Mmm hmm. They were. Although I did wish for more of them.” 

He laughed, “I wish I could have written more as well.” 

Taking a moment to himself, Jamie pulled away taking in the familiar surroundings, his gaze seemed to linger on the small bundle of his letters. 

“I am curious, Claire.” He said, brows furrowed.

“About what?”

“Why ye dinna wear the bauble I left ye.” His voice was soft, almost somber in tone. 

I furrowed my brow, trying to think back to any bauble I may have received or misplaced. My hand instantly went to my neck where the fine gold chain securely held Jamie’s ring. 

“I don’t know which bauble you’re speaking of, Jamie.” My wrist twisted and rocked from side to side, moving the ring rapidly across the chain. “The only thing close to a bauble I can recall is this ring. I never took it off. I’ve worn it either on my finger or on the chain every day since you gave it to me.” 

Jamie’s hand gently grabbed my own, halting the nervous fidgeting, and lifted my hand to his lips for a tender kiss. The stubble of his beard tickled the back of my hand, as his lips lingered against my skin. “No,” his mumbled words a whisper across my skin, “I dinna mean the ring. Although ye canna ken how elated I am to see ye wear it. I wish for it to never leave your finger, but I understand how ye dinna wish to tarnish the gem with soil from her wee herbs or blood from yer tending. No, I mean the wee bauble I wrapped in a letter for ye before I left.”

“Ja-”

He held up his hand to silence me. “I thought I would be clever and leave the letter hidden so only ye could discover it, but it seems I did my job too well.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “So it only seems fair now that I find it for ye, yes?”

I nodded as he shook his head contradicting himself. “I’ll give ye a clue, mo nighean donn, and then it’s yer job to find it.” 

I huffed out a laugh. “Well, what’s the clue?” 

Jamie kissed my hand one more time before stepping back and leaned against the closed door. “I’ve already given it to ye.”

 

“What? How? When did you do such a thing?” I asked flabbergasted. 

He grinned like the cat who got the canary and nodded slightly, but not in any definable direction. “Ye ken how and when. Surely ye read yer letters thoroughly or watched me when I entered the room. What did you read, Sassenach? Think.” 

“James Fraser!” I exclaimed with a wave of my hand. “How am I supposed to decipher something I didn’t know existed?” 

“Weel ye ken now, so think and decipher.” 

I narrowed my eyes at him, causing him to bark with laughter but not reveal any more cryptic clues. 

“Okay, letters and body language,” I mumbled to myself turning to face the room. “We walked in and he looked to the window, then to the trunk at the end of the bed. The pile of letters neatly stacked…He looked there multiple times, but there’s nothing in there unless--unless he had hidden clues in their contents? But then why would he look over...oh!” and like a flash, a ridiculous notion came to me. Many times in his letters he mentioned his desire to draw me in close to his heart, and the heart was on the left side, the same side he wrote on, the logical side where a small bedside cabinet with drawers filled with baubles, a heavily used bible, and a rosary. Swiftly I removed the contents of the bedside cabinet and desperate to see if a letter was hidden. 

Nothing. 

“Well, that was a long shot,” I mumbled. 

Deflated I sat on the bed and looked around again, my eyes landing on Jamie as he portrayed nothing but absolute indifference. 

“You only looked at two places,” I said loud enough for him to hear. 

“Och, did I?” He smirked. 

“Aye, ye did.” I laughed, exaggerating my speech to mimic his accent. 

“Then what does that tell ye, Sassenach?” 

“It means you either stuck the letter in the ground, or it’s in your trunk.” 

He shrugged but didn’t say a word. 

“Fine,” I sighed, walking over to the trunk I had taken to using for my own clothing, and began to pull out my belongings one by one. It didn’t take long until the trunk was empty and nothing lay at the bottom that resembled a letter, nor was there one stuffed somewhere inside the various possession I had inside. 

“There’s nothing here,” I said gesturing to the trunk. “Look see there’s noth--” My words stopped as I noticed a small, yellowing scrap of fabric that seemed to be wedged into the inside lid of the trunk. My hands shook as I gently tugged on the fabric, pulling it until my fingers scraped against metal. A hidden latch that opened a hidden compartment rattled at my touch, then easily opened. Inside, pockets of wood and fabric lined panes similar to a bookshelf were revealed. Inside the middle pane lay a perfectly sealed letter. 

The letter had my name scrawled in Jamie’s beautiful script, my fingers traced the letters, then popped the ball of red wax sealing the sides together. White and gold slithered out of its confinement and into my awaiting palm. 

“They were my mother’s pearls.” Jamie’s voice was low and husky from behind me. “She said to give them to my future wife.” 

Tears sprang to my eyes as he reverently placed the strand around my neck. 

“How long?” I couldn’t finish my thought, but he knew.

“I wrote this letter the day I found you in the meadow outside the mill.” His fingers traced the pearls and my neck with a light touch sending chills down my spine. “I knew then I wanted ye for my own, and I couldna and wouldna let ye go. I sealed the letter with the pearls just before I left for University.” My eyes closed as his lips brushed the nape of my neck. His forehead leaned against my skull and we sat in silence, taking in the moment. 

“Y-You knew? I thought, oh God Jamie!” I turned in his arms, throwing my own around his neck and burying my face in his chest. “We lost so much time before.”

He lifted my chin, “No we didna, it wasna the time or place to begin. Our lives are twined together,” Jamie grabbed my hand, intertwining our fingers in illustration, “and when we say it is the right time, it is. I knew I wanted ye and ye proved on Quarter Day that ye too wanted me. That’s why I gave ye that ring, to symbolize my commitment to ye, and wrapped up this necklace for ye. It’s an outward sign of what we already know. We’re bound you and I and soon, very soon, if ye’ll have me…”

“Are you--”

He nodded eyes brimmed with tears. “I am.” 

“You already know the answer you insufferable Scot!” I sobbed with a laugh. 

“Say it, please Claire.” 

“Yes, I’ll be your wife.” His eyes closed and shoulders shook in silent tears as he pulled me in tight, his lips finding mine in a clash of teeth and salty tears.


End file.
